In Darkness Bound by Fiondil

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Chapter 74: Ingwion Alone

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74: Ingwion Alone

Ingwion did not stay in Tirion long once the exodus was over, though Amarië begged him to.

"Intarion and Lirulin will be returning with Findaráto," she said pleadingly. "Surely you will want to be here when they return."

Ingwion shook his head. "I very much doubt they will succeed, Amarië. Findaráto may have been reluctant to leave, but once he made up his mind to do so, I doubt if even the Valar could convince him to turn aside from this mad venture."

Amarië stared at him nonplused. "But he has to return," she said, her eyes imploring him. "He just has to. We’re supposed to be married."

Ingwion sighed and gave the elleth a hug. "I sincerely hope for your sake that he does, meldenya, but in the meantime, I need to return to Vanyamar. Atar needs me and I need to apprise him of these recent developments." He looked down at her and gave her a light kiss on the forehead. "If Findaráto returns...."

"When," Amarië insisted sharply. "When Findaráto returns."

Ingwion nodded, accepting the reproof. "When Findaráto returns, send me word and I will come." He kissed her again and then released her from his embrace, giving her a bow before leaving.

Anairë and Eärwen saw him privately before he left to give him their personal messages to Ingwë. Anairë seemed to Ingwion to be somewhat at a loss as to what to do. Her fair features were marred by a crease between her eyes and she had a haunted look about her, constantly wringing her hands in the folds of her skirts. Eärwen seemed more in control, but Ingwion sensed an underlying anger beneath that calm exterior, an anger he feared would explode given the slightest provocation.

"Please convey to his Majesty our deepest respects," Anairë said formally when Ingwion met them in Anairë’s private parlor. They were alone; not even their ladies-in-waiting were present. "Tell him that we would welcome any aid or advice or...."

"What Anairë means, Ingwion, is that she would be happier if Ingwë sent someone to rule us." Eärwen’s tone was brittle and she did not look at Anairë, who shot her a scathing look. Ingwion had the feeling that this was an old argument between the two ellith. "She seems to think we’re incapable of ruling ourselves and we need an ellon to do so instead."

"That’s not what I think at all, Eärwen!" Anairë exclaimed. "I only meant that the Noldor are so few now, it seems pointless for us to consider ourselves a viable nation. You know Fëanáro handed us the regency more in jest than with any real expectation that we would be able to do a credible job of it. Neither of us are really up to it... well, certainly I am not," she admitted, casting her eyes down.

"I disagree," Eärwen said hotly, glaring at her sister-in-law. "Indis is gone. There is no one left. I’m not even a Noldo! Yet, I have been trained to statecraft by my atar no less than my brothers. Fëanáro may have been half jesting when he gave us the regency, but I am not. I will hold our people together," she stressed the pronoun, "and do all in my power to ensure that the Noldor are not swept away into the... the dustbin of history."

Ingwion raised an eyebrow at that and forced himself not to smile. "I doubt that will ever happen with you in charge, Eärwen," he said, "or you, Anairë. I think the Noldor are in good hands with you two. I have my own doubts about ellith ruling, but I suppose you cannot do any worse than us ellyn."

"And maybe a whole sight better!" Eärwen retorted.

"Besides which, who would Atar send that the Noldor would accept?" Ingwion asked. "I certainly would not wish to take up that role."

Anairë gave him a hesitant look. "I was thinking perhaps Ingoldo...."

"My uncle?" Ingwion exclaimed in disbelief.

"And why not?" Anairë retorted. "Is he not capable?"

"I have no doubt he would be, but that’s not the point," Ingwion stated firmly. "Uncle Ingoldo is... is ...."

"Yes? What is he, Ingwi?" Anairë demanded when he hesitated, at a loss for words.

"I don’t think Atar would willingly let him out of his sight," he said at the last. "He’s too... too ambitious. I do not trust him and neither does Atar."

The two ellith stared at him in consternation. "Why not?" Anairë asked. "What has he done to warrant your distrust or Ingwë’s?"

Ingwion hesitated, wondering how much he should confide in these two ellith, and then gave a mental shrug. It hardly mattered now. "Atar could never find actual proof, but he always suspected that Ingoldo was a secret sympathizer of Fëanáro."

The ellith gave him disbelieving looks and he nodded. "Do you really want someone like Ingoldo ruling over you?" he asked quietly and was pleased to see the considering looks that passed between the ladies.

Anairë sighed. "What about Ingalaurë, then?"

"My brother?" Ingwion exclaimed, giving her a slight frown. "I suppose," he said slowly. "I have no doubt he would be a good ruler if he were asked to do it, but I am not sure he would be willing to leave Vanyamar."

"Would you at least ask?" Anairë enquired, giving him a pleading look. Eärwen, he noticed, merely scowled.

"I will do that much, Anairë," Ingwion answered, "but my best advice to you both is to take up the regency and rule your people to the best of your abilities. They already have your love and trust. Sending someone else, even one of the High King’s sons, to take over would, I fear, send the wrong message."

"And what message would that be?" Anairë asked.

"That the Noldor are no longer to be trusted," Ingwion replied.

"But they are not!" Anairë retorted. "The facts speak for themselves."

Ingwion shook his head. "No, Anairë. The fact is that you and all who remained behind have proven yourselves loyal to the Valar and their authority by refusing to follow Fëanáro."

"Exactly what I’ve been saying," Eärwen spoke up, giving them a satisfied look. "Anairë, I know you have doubts, but Ñolofinwë, I think, would want you to do your best for our people. With Indis gone, you and I are all that is left of the royal family. Our people need to see us as strong. They need the assurance that, in spite of everything, life will still continue and the Noldor will thrive. It may take some time to win back the trust that has eroded between our people and the rest of Eldamar for what Fëanáro did in inciting rebellion against the Valar, but I am confident that trust will eventually be restored. Our people are suffering and we need to be there for them. Having someone else shoulder that responsibility simply will not work."

"Eärwen is correct, Anairë," Ingwion chimed in. "Fëanáro may have given you two the regency half in jest, but it’s up to you to prove the lie in his actions and be the regents in truth. Atar will support you, have no fear of that, and no doubt, King Olwë will as well, seeing as how his daughter is one of the regents, though I wonder that you do not make plans to return to your own people, Eärwen."

The Telerin princess shook her head. "The day I married Arafinwë, the Lindar ceased to be my people. I am a Noldo, in spirit if not in blood. I have ever thought of myself in that way since I came to Tirion. I will not return to Alqualondë. It is no longer my home."

Ingwion nodded, casting an eye over the two ellith. Eärwen sat there in supreme assurance of her own worth and abilities, and Ingwion realized that the anger he sensed from her was what drove her now. She needed that anger to keep her going. He wondered, though, what would happen once the anger was gone or, even worse, exploded. Would she be able to carry on as she had? He did not know and hoped that his fears for her were unfounded. Anairë, he could see, was still unconvinced by their arguments, but she seemed more resigned to the situation. He wasn’t sure if that was any better. He almost wished that she were as angry as Eärwen. The Noldor would need their fire in the coming days. For a brief moment, he even contemplated staying longer to help out, but dismissed the idea almost at once. For better or worse, these two ellith were the leaders of the Noldor and it would be best if they got on with it without him around. And he did need to consult with Atar and let him know what had happened with Fëanáro.

"I must leave now," he said rising from his chair. "I know that you will be all right. I have every faith in you both, and I have no doubt that Atar will say the same once I tell him."

The ellith rose with him and Eärwen gave him a warm hug. Anairë merely nodded to him. "Travel safely, my lord," she said.

"We’ll see you to your horse," Eärwen said, hooking an arm around his. Anairë nodded and the three left the parlor, making their way to the front door of the palace. Eärwen asked Ingwion to give her greetings to Elindis and his sister and brother and Ingwion promised to do so. Then, they were outside and a groom was bringing up his horse and the packhorse that carried his belongings. He had refused all offers of an escort, saying he was not planning to travel on the road but across country.

"It will be faster," he explained, "and frankly, I wish to avoid certain people."

"You mean the Valar," Eärwen said, giving him a shrewd look.

Ingwion simply nodded and his expression made it clear that he did not wish to discuss the matter further. Instead, he gave them both hugs. "I’ll try to return if I can, but I cannot promise anything."

"Nor do we hold you to any promise, Ingwi," Eärwen said with a smile. "Á lelya varnavë. Nai tiruvar tielya iValar."

Ingwion mounted his steed, gave them a nod in thanks for the blessing and urged the horse forward, suddenly glad to be on his way at last. Tirion was too depressing for him now and he longed to see the white spires of his home. He sighed with relief as he passed through the west gate and onto the road to Valmar. Two leagues beyond, where the farms and estates of the nobles came to an end, he urged his horse off the road and made his way northwest towards Vanyamar, keeping the distant Pelóri ever on his right as a guide.

****

Ingwion camped along the way, usually stopping only when hunger drove him, knowing his horses needed to rest, even if he didn’t. He spent the time going over all that had happened in Tirion, indeed, all that had happened to him since the Trees had died, wondering if there was something he could have done differently to effect a better outcome, especially where his cousin Findaráto was concerned. In the end, he decided that such ruminations were useless. He could not go back and change what had happened, however much he desired it. He could only deal with what was. He sincerely hoped that Intarion and Lirulin would succeed in convincing Findaráto, and perhaps even Arafinwë and others, to return to Aman, but deep in his heart he feared their mission was doomed to failure.

Shying away from such bleak thoughts, he looked up into the heavens as he sat beside his small fire, trying to remember his atar’s lessons, picking out the constellations that he could remember. He recognized Wilwarin, the butterfly, and for some reason his thoughts drifted towards Olwen, wondering what the Telerin princess was doing at that precise moment.

"I wonder what she will say at the sight of the Noldor marching past Alqualondë," he said out loud to his horse, who gave him an equine snort and went back to nibbling on the grass. The packhorse didn’t even bother to make that much of a comment. Ingwion chuckled and lay on his back to better see the stars and fantasized about returning to Alqualondë and claiming Olwen as his bride. With that happy thought, he slipped onto the Path of Dreams and was soon fast asleep.

****

He was approaching Vanyamar three campsites later, coming towards the city from the northeast. He would have to travel due west to reach the south gate and he probably should have angled his way towards the road long before this, but for some reason he was loath to come upon the city so openly. He had no idea why but decided to trust in his instincts. Most likely, there was nothing wrong and if the gate guards asked, he would simply give them the truth: he had decided to come cross country to save having to go all the way to Valmar before coming to Vanyaymar, though really, none of that was anyone’s business but his own.

He studied the city as he neared its walls, automatically looking for the flag that always flew above the palace to indicate that the High King was in residence and felt his heart give a lurch when he could not see it. Could Atar still be in Valmar? he wondered. Or had he gone up the mountain to Ilmarin, instead? Normally, though, if Ingwë simply was going to consult with Lord Manwë, the flag would still be flying. Only when the High King left the vicinity of the mountain was the flag lowered.

He stared in consternation at the empty flagpole, bringing his horse to a halt, sitting there deep in thought. He had been depending on his atar to be there, but if he was still in Valmar....

He hesitated, not sure if he should go on and wait for Ingwë’s return or turn around and head for Valmar. Finally he decided that he would wait for his atar here. Ingwë would return when he would return. But, another part of him asked, what if his atar was waiting for him in Valmar? Would he grow anxious and make for Tirion in search of his son?

Ingwion sighed and rubbed the space between his eyes, feeling a headache coming on. In the end, he decided backtracking was pointless. He was already here and he was heartily tired of camping out. Thoughts of a hot bath and a meal not cooked over a campfire and sleeping in his own bed convinced him to wait for the High King and he longed to see his amillë and his siblings, his twin especially, once again.

Giving his horse a nudge and pulling the lead on the packhorse, he set off again. Soon, he reached the gate, which he saw was shut, which surprised him. Even more surprising were the guards standing at attention outside the gate. When he appeared from an unexpected direction, they startled and drew what weapons they had, not swords, but spears, and two drew bows. He brought his horse to a halt and raised his hands to show he was unarmed. The gate suddenly opened and even more guards came pouring out, all wielding spears or bows.

"Peace, friends," he called out. "It is I, Prince Ingwion."

One of the guards, the captain according to the insignia on his baldric, took a step forward, his spear before him. "How do we know you are who you say you are? Why do you not come honestly by way of the road? What mischief do you plan, sirrah?"

Ingwion felt himself grow angry, surprised at the hostility and suspicion in the ellon’s voice. He took a deep centering breath to calm himself, casting his eyes upon the group standing behind the captain, an ellon he did not know and that surprised him even more, for he was certain he knew all the captains in his atar’s retinue. Then he spied someone standing in the middle of the pack, someone he knew and he smiled in relief.

"Come, Sérener," he said to the ellon, who was a member of Ingwë’s personal guards. "You know me. Why all this hostility?"

The ellon pushed his way forward, eyeing Ingwion dubiously. "Aye, I know you right enough, your Highness. It seems passing strange though that you would come from this direction and without a proper escort."

Ingwion stared at the ellon in consternation. Sérener was new to his atar’s guards, but he had always been most respectful. This suspicion and hostile attitude was unexpected. He shrugged, trying to evince a nonchalant air. "I’m afraid things in Tirion are a bit chaotic right now and there were none who could be spared to act as an escort, and I decided to travel cross country and camp out under the stars. They’re rather quite fascinating, don’t you think?" he added, purposely sounding like an excited elfling. "I can see why the Teleri were reluctant to abandon them completely."

The ingenuousness of his tone seemed to throw the ellyn off-guard and he noticed Sérener and a few others smiling. "They are indeed, Highness," the ellon said. He then turned to the captain. "Meneldur, it is in truth Prince Ingwion. Let him pass."

Meneldur continued eyeing him a bit suspiciously, but finally relented, giving Ingwion a short bow. "Forgive me, your Highness, but I have my orders. I must examine all who seek to enter the city."

"I hope your orders do not include examining the High King when he comes," Ingwion said drolly, "else I fear you will be spending the rest of your days cleaning the sewers."

Meneldur blushed while one or two of the other guards snickered. He gave them a glare and then turned to Ingwion and bowed again, motioning the guards to step aside. Ingwion dismounted. "Sérener, walk with me, if you will, and fill me in with all the news."

Meneldur looked as if he would protest, but Ingwion just raised an imperious eyebrow and the ellon subsided, giving Sérener a grimace. "Escort his Highness to the palace and then report back here," he ordered.

Ingwion decided not to argue with the captain, wondering why one of his atar’s personal guards was now a gate guard. Something was not right, but he wasn’t going to find out what was going

on just standing there. He nodded to Sérener and handed him the packhorse’s lead. "Let us go, then," he said. "I’ve been dreaming of hot baths and soft beds for too long."

Sérener and the other guards, including the captain, smiled knowingly at his heartfelt plea. "This way, your Highness," Sérener said, grabbing a torch from one of his fellows. Ingwion followed him through the gate. They were a dozen paces along the street leading to the palace when he heard an ominous clang behind him and with a sense of foreboding knew that the gate was shut once again.

****

Á lelya varnavë. Nai tiruvar tielya iValar: ‘Travel safely. May the Valar guard thy way’.